


Love at FirstSight

by joycecarolnotes



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, a flimsy excuse for me to write fake pied piper blog entries, the only good pining tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joycecarolnotes/pseuds/joycecarolnotes
Summary: To prove the algorithm works, Richard agrees to date his top match on the FirstSight dating application.
Relationships: Jared Dunn/Richard Hendricks
Comments: 114
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a long time, and it's not really getting any closer to finished. But, I figured I might as well throw the first couple chapters up and see if anyone is interested in reading it. i hope you're all taking care of yourselves and your neighbors during this time of upheaval. May this dumb tropey garbage be a small comfort. <3

Laurie stares at them blankly from her seat at the conference room table.

"Gentlemen," she says. "You may gather."

"Oh. Right," Richard mutters. He and Jared huddle behind her. They gaze down at her laptop, the results of a survey open on its screen.

"I called you in today to discuss a strategy for one of your"—Laurie sighs, as if the word pains her to speak—"Octopipers. It seems there are widespread accounts of customer dissatisfaction with the FirstSight dating application. Users report they are... disappointed, to say the least, with the perceived quality of their matches." Laurie scrolls tonelessly through pages of user survey responses, all bemoaning the grotesquerie of the "dogfaces" and "hags" (and other terms Jared prefers not to repeat in polite company) the app has matched them with. "They are a minority, albeit a very _vocal_ one. Regardless of the facts, they blame Pied Piper's middle-out compression technology for their failure in identifying suitable romantic companions."

Richard pulls a grimace. "Look, ah, Laurie." The exasperation is clear in his voice, and Jared can't help but thrill at seeing Richard stick up for himself like this. That intractable pull towards Richard's assuredness of his own intelligence, the thing that led him to Pied Piper in the first place. It sends a pleasant shiver up his spine. "The algorithm works, okay? It was built on _my_ tech," Richard insists. "This is the most advanced compatibility and partner matching software ever devised, okay? And, I mean, maybe all these dissatisfied _users_ should just give their matches a chance. They're probably going to die alone anyway."

"Richard!" Jared interjects. His heart aches for these imagined, lonesome users. He holds a hand over his chest, scandalized.

"What? No, I d - I didn't mean I want them to actually - look. Sorry. What we need here is an alternative test case. I mean, you said it yourself, they're a vocal _minority_. The vast _majority_ of FirstSight users find perfectly acceptable matches. Right? All we need is a test case willing to date one of their matches and be as publicly vocal as they are about getting matched with these... dogfaces." Richard shrugs. "Prove the tech works."

"Hmm." Laurie chews on the end of her glasses as she weighs her options. Jared can almost see the scales that tip inside her head. "This is," she says at last, "surprisingly, an intriguing proposition." 

"Okay so. Maybe we ask..." Richard snaps his fingers, gazing through the conference room walls out into Pied Piper's open office. The hoodies, the headphones, the discarded Stumptown coffee cups. _Ah_ , thinks Jared, _the hustle-and-bustle of a vibrant startup nerve center at work!_ "Dinesh?"

"No." Laurie shakes her head. "This will be a sensitive operation, and if Mr. Chugtai is known for anything, certainly it is not his discretion."

"Fair enough." Richard shrugs. "So then... Gilfoyle?"

"Richard, I really don't think Gilf would be amenable to that." Jared lowers his voice, speaking out the side of his mouth: "given the CEO of FirstSight's evangelical beliefs." He means to offer himself instead, but Richard cuts him off with a wave of his hand before he can speak any further.

"Fine. Fine. I'll - I'll sign up. Myself. See, doing it right now. And there's - wow - that is fast. Ha. I impress even myself sometimes." Richard smiles to himself for a moment, then his skin goes pale, as if he's fading into an old black and white picture. "There's a match already." Jared recognizes the look on his face, and feels an almost Pavlovian urge to rush and grab a vomit bucket. "It's, ah. Oh. It's - "

Jared's phone chimes. He clicks through to the notification. "Well would you look at that," he chirps. "We're 97% compatible!"

Richard vomits onto his own feet.

\--

"You're absolutely certain you're okay with this?" Jared calls over his shoulder as he stirs a sizzling pan of pad Thai. "Acting like we're dating, I mean? Mere hours ago you were reacting to the news we'd been matched as if you'd eaten a fistful of cilantro."

"Yeah. No. No. I mean, yes. Yeah. Not weird. Totally… okay with this." Richard reaches around behind him, plucks a piece of tofu from the pan, and eats it. Jared smiles fondly to himself. He loves that Richard feels so comfortable in his kitchen. "If anything," Richard shrugs, "I'm surprised you're going along with it."

"Oh?"

"Honestly, Jared, I can't believe you even downloaded the app. Like you need the help. Heh."

Jared frowns down at his apron. A gift from Gloria. _Age Doesn't Matter… Unless You're a Cheese!_ , it says.

"Richard," he explains, "of course I downloaded FirstSight. As COO it is my responsibility to familiarize myself with our product, and with the products of those who are working with us. I believe in this app. I really do. And this could be an absolute PR coup for us. Get people engaged with the platform, excited about the Pied Piper brand. I mean, imagine the blog views we'll get! It'll be just like the condor egg, only even more magnificent, because now we'll be watching something even more wonderful hatch."

"Oh?" Richard laughs, "And what's that?"

"Romance."

"Ha. Okay."

Jared feels himself blush, his ears go red, he hopes that Richard doesn't notice. The steam from his cooking is hot on his face. "Dinner is almost ready. Go sit."

Later that night, changed into their pajamas, they run through the plan again as they go about their nightly ritual of making up Jared's sofa bed. There will be regular blog posts. Outreach to tech media outlets. Photos of them together. They will be seen aside each other at important industry events. They will date no one else, of course; that is a given. ( _And hardly a sacrifice!_ , Jared thinks. Since Richard moved into the condo, he's more or less—but for a few furtive late night self-pleasure sessions to the thought of Richard sleeping comfortably in his bed—put his sexual and romantic life on hold to better serve his captain.)

Richard tugs a pillowcase over one of Jared's pillows. Jared climbs into bed beneath the sheets.

"Anyway, thanks again for doing this, man."

"Of course. Anything for Pied Piper!"

 _And for you, Richard. For the chance to be close to you._ That Jared thinks but doesn't say.

"Right. Well, uh, goodnight." 

"Goodnight. I love you."

"You - ah, Jared?" Richard shakes his head. "You can stop saying that, you know. When we're alone anyway. It's just. It's a little confusing." 

"Right, of course." Jared nods, acquiescent. _Selfish_ , he thinks. _Selfish. How dare you, Donald. Sharing your feelings just to hear yourself speak_. "Goodnight, Richard."

"Yeah. Sweet dreams."

Jared shifts in the sofa bed. He tugs the heavy quilt around his shoulders, and reaches up for his black satin eye mask. "Goodnight, Richard. I love you," he whispers moments later, to the closed bedroom door.

\--

It is easy—all too easy—to fill in the details of his and Richard's relationship. After all, Jared admits to himself, he's been imagining it in his head already for years. For verisimilitude (and despite Richard's insistence that "aren't we kind of already living together? Do we really have to do this part?"), Jared suggests they play through the early stages of a relationship. Flesh out their backstory together, so to speak.

They start with some coy messages. A series of increasingly amorous texts.

"What if I said, like, ah, _hey there scrum-tious_? Because, you know, you do the scrum."

"Gosh," Jared blushes, "so forward!" Richard is so clever sometimes. Jared wishes he could dig into his brain, see exactly what it is that makes him tick. "Oh, and then I'd say," he types the words into his phone, " _you are quite an agile developer_. Get it?"

"With the winky-face emoji?"

"I know. Like a common tramp. We're practically sexting!"

Richard sends Jared a photo of a ruby-crowned kinglet he spies outside the Pied Piper offices, and receives in turn a picture of that night's gorgeous waxing moon. One night, Richard comes back to the condo with flowers—daffodils, which he remembers Jared saying that he likes—and it's only by reminding himself this is all for show that Jared manages not to get too hopelessly teary-eyed about it. None of this is real. It's all an act. No different from that production of _The Vagina Monologues_ Jared stage-managed in college. He promises himself, not for the first time, that he won't let his imagination run away with him.

\--

"We know."

"Yeah, we know."

Dinesh and Gilfoyle sit side by side, identically posed in their conference room chairs with their arms crossed. Richard had practically dragged them to this meeting, insisting they be told the news face-to-face.

"What do you mean," Richard air-quotes, "'you know'?"

"We know you're dating," Gilfoyle deadpans.

"You and Jared," Dinesh adds, "have not exactly been discreet." 

"We would have been - um, ah, ah." Richard cuts himself off at the alarmed look in Jared's eyes, meant to communicate that he nearly gave away their secret. "We _have been_ discreet. We _have been_. The discreetest!"

Gilfoyle shakes his head. "Nope. We've seen the way he looks at you." 

"He paints your nails. He cuts your hair. He paints your fingernails, Richard!" Dinesh splutters, gesturing almost angrily at Richard's hands. 

"All that," Jared adds, "plus there's our palpable sexual chemistry."

"I'm going back to work," Dinesh says, rising from his chair, "to try to forget you ever said that."

Richard trails Jared back to his office, and perches himself on the edge of his desk. He's wearing that soft, green sweater. "What do you think they meant by that? Dinesh and Gilfoyle. When they said, uh, you know?" Richard scratches at his neck. He opens his mouth to stretch his jaw out. "When they said that they already knew?"

Jared hoped the conversation might've already been forgotten, but of course it hadn't slipped past Richard's ever-vigilant notice. His mind is like a beautiful venus flytrap: anything that gets in won't be getting out again. Heaven knows Jared wears his heart on his sleeve and frequently on his face besides, but he'd hoped that perhaps his feelings for Richard weren't quite so terribly obvious. Clearly Gilfoyle and Dinesh had picked up on something, and Jared says a silent prayer of gratitude that it seems, at least, their suspicions took Richard by surprise.

"Your standard teasing, I suspect. I know it can feel cruel but, more often, gentle joshing should be taken as a sign of intimacy in male homosocial relationships." Jared issues a smile, prudent if a little forced. 

"Yeah. Heh." Richard looks like he means to say something else. He stares down at the floor and asks instead, "what next?"

"Well." Jared rubs his hands together. "Time to tell the world," he says.


	2. Chapter 2

> Love at FirstSight
> 
> By Jared Dunn
> 
> Dear readers, if you've been following this blog for any length of time, you're undoubtedly aware of my deep respect and admiration for Pied Piper's intrepid CEO, Richard Hendricks. Well, I come to you today with some long-overdue news: that admiration has blossomed into "something more" and, readers, I am over the moon to report that the feeling is mutual.
> 
> Richard and I chose to keep our romantic relationship under wraps through its hatchling and nestling stages, but now that it's sprouted its feathers and is all but ready to leave the nest, we've decided it's safe to let the world in on our little secret. And this one, no one will be locked in the toolshed overnight for telling!
> 
> Of course, I can not report on this wonderful development without giving thanks to one of our Octopipers, the FirstSight dating application. You see, without FirstSight's revolutionary compatibility algorithm (powered by Pied Piper) rating us a 97%, Richard and I may never have realized quite how much we have in common, and may never have decided to take that metaphorical plunge into the sea of romance. Single readers, take note: perhaps your own personal Hendricks awaits, just on the other side of a FirstSight installation.
> 
> I promise to fill you in ASAP on all the details (the "safe for work" ones anyway, as they say) but for now, Richard and I have a date at that new Burmese tapas place, and those vegetarian samusas aren't going to eat themselves!

After Jared announces their relationship, they actually do check out that new Burmese restaurant in Menlo Park. ("Just, like," Richard stammers, his paranoia, Jared worries, perhaps getting the better of him. "In case any of the tech bloggers you reached out to are following up on our story or whatever," and Jared doesn't have the heart to tell him so far no one has picked up what he felt was an absolutely charming human interest tale. Not to mention a win for diversity in the tech world!) Now they're seated at a cozy corner table, a cup of lemongrass tea and a glass of bourbon between them, lit by delicate candlelight.

"So what do you do?" says Richard. He puts on a voice so cool it reminds Jared of a young Kai Ryssdal.

Jared laughs. "Darling," he says, under his breath as he leans in close to Richard, and the endearment tastes wonderful and yet so bittersweet in his mouth. "We don't have to pretend this is a blind date. After all, we are purporting to've been together for a while. And people are aware we've been close for years as work colleagues."

"Right. Right." Richard winces. "Stupid of me."

"It's okay," Jared says gently. "We're figuring this out as we go along."

It's so intimate, so wonderfully intimate: crafting this story, having this secret, with Richard. Jared feels so intoxicated by it, he reaches across the small table and lays his hand on top of Richard's. Richard flinches away instinctively.

They glance up to see their server looming over them, looking mildly uncomfortable and a bit dumbstruck with the small scene she has just seen. "We're together," Richard blurts, grabbing frantically at Jared's hand again but succeeding only in sending his tumbler of bourbon spilling over the small mahogany table and dripping steadily onto the floor.

He'll clean it up, Jared offers quickly. He gets to his knees and pulls out his own navy blue handkerchief, resisting a momentary impulse—while he's down here, only for one shameful, blistering second—to rest his cheek on Richard's perfect, khaki-covered knee. _Not good_ , he thinks. _Donald, not good. This is going to be so much more painful than you're allowing yourself to believe it is_. Jared pushes his ill-advised desires away and tries his best to regain his composure as he clambers back into his seat.

"So. Jared." Is Richard blushing, he wonders, or is that just how his skin looks in such soft candlelight? Either way, it's lovely. Jared commits it to his memory. _To describe it later_ , he thinks, _for the blog_. "How do you feel about dating a spaz?"

"If it's you? Honored."

Richard laughs, and then he's changing the subject to an episode of Outlander that they watched together, and it feels no different from any of the other times they've stayed up talking alone, late into the night. It's just as safe, just as easy, just as comfortable. Jared could almost forget that this is a performance at all.

Things get better from there. By the end of the night, Jared could swear Richard enjoyed their date just as much as he had, but then again, he knew how far Richard would go to prove a point.

\--

"So, uh, Jared?" Richard broaches the topic delicately, nervously, the next night when they're alone in Jared's condo. Jared tucks away the Jane Goodall biography he's reading to listen to Richard attentively. "I can't believe - at the restaurant, I mean - I mean, I almost really fucked us! Just because I can't, like - because I fucking flinch whenever anybody touches me."

"Richard," Jared uses his gentlest voice, longing to soothe and to comfort, but Richard rants on, paranoid, uninterrupted:

"Did you see the look on the server's face? I mean, I think she was onto something. And she could sell that story to a tech blog! A bottomfeeder like CJ Cantwell? She would eat that shit _up_. No, no. I can't let this, like - jesus fucking christ, Jared, did you know I ruined things with Winnie as soon as she brought up the _idea_ of having sex for the first time? I threw myself down a flight of _stairs_ rather than even _think_ about the _possibility_ of having sex with her. A woman I liked! Because I'm just too fucking... fucking..."

Richard trails off. He bites his lip and looks down at the floor, and for a moment, Jared thinks that he might cry. Jared feels a flash of something dark and hungry, all twisted up inside with threefold desires to see Richard cry, and to stop Richard from crying, and to chasten himself for the way he can't help but revel in the intimacy of seeing Richard come quite so undone. The selfish desire that he, alone, be the one to wind Richard's tangled skein of emotions back into a ball. His urge to touch Richard, right now, feels dreadfully inappropriate. _Not good_ , Jared thinks again. _Not good, not good, not good_.

"Look, I just." Richard snaps his fingers. "Maybe this is weird but I thought that we could like... practice?"

"You mean practice," Jared's brow furrows, "touching each other?"

"Yeah, I - just so it looks, like... natural? When we're out in public and whatever. Rather than a normal guy on a date with a fucking retard. Heh."

Jared hates to hear Richard speak of himself like that. How that reckless, debonair self-confidence Jared finds so attractive under other circumstances seems to wither and die when Richard discusses anything about himself other than his coding. "Richard," Jared cautions, "I understand reclaiming the language that's been used against us. I mean, when I call myself 'pillow-biter' it takes away the power it had when my aunt said it, but - " Jared closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, a meditative moment to calm and center himself. When he looks at Richard again, he feels resolved. Determined. _If I can do this_ , Jared swears to himself, _if I can make this easier on him, no matter how much it pains me, I'll do whatever I can_.

"We'll go slow," Jared promises, almost under his breath. He shifts nearer to Richard on the sofa. This may have been his captain's suggestion but now that they are here, actually doing this, Jared steps into his usual role as Richard's guide. "We won't do anything that makes you feel at all uncomfortable. Could I - first, please, Richard. May I hold your hand?" Even as he says the words, Jared is almost bowled over with joy at the sound of his own voice saying them. And even better, hearing Richard's stammered "yes." Jared reaches over, takes Richard hand in his and turns it over, palm-down, so Richard's smaller, calloused hand drops into his own much larger, softer one.

He's held Richard's hand before, of course, he's felt its clammy, calloused skin, its fingertips hardened from work, but that was in the context of manicuring Richard's nails. This, this—holding Richard's hand just to hold it—this is something entirely different.

Richard looks up at Jared through his eyelashes. He moves slowly, tentatively, brushing warm fingers against Jared's slender wrist. "Sorry it's like. Heh. Sweaty."

"That's alright," Jared says, his mouth gone dry. His heart beats so hard, he wonders if Richard can hear it. "Richard," he says, "may I put my arm around you?" and with Richard's permission, he stretches his right arm across Richard's slender shoulders. Feels Richard lean faintly into him. _I am so lucky. How did I ever get so lucky_ , Jared thinks.

"Hey. We could do this," Richard says, after a long, quiet moment, "and no one would even know we were faking."

"Right," Jared says, and then, "let's try this," as he wraps his other arm around Richard, and feels Richard wrap his around him in return. They sit like that, holding each other, until it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Until Jared knows he'll never forget exactly how it feels to hold Richard. His slim shoulders. The warmth of his skin. Pressing his nose into Richard's downy, auburn curls. He's been using Jared's tea tree and mint shampoo, he notices.

"Forgive me if this is too forward," Jared says, "but perhaps we should practice kissing."


	3. Chapter 3

Richard may have balked at practice-kissing ( _foolish, Donald_ , Jared scolds himself, _foolish to have even suggested it_ ), but after that night at the condo, Jared finds his hand in Richard's nearly everywhere they go. On the short walk from the COO's designated parking space to the front door of the Pied Piper offices, Jared counts six times Richard reaches out to grab his hand—once for each colleague they pass—and six times Richard just as quickly drops it. He seems to believe that around every corner there might lurk some venomous Hooli spy or malicious tech blogger, waiting to catch them not touching each other and promptly expose their deceit. Richard even makes an elaborate show of holding the door open for Jared.

"M'lord."

"My captain." Jared bows as he passes over the threshold. Neither of them can stifle a giggle.

"And they said chivalry was dead! Right? Ha!" Richard proclaims, somewhat grandly. It earns a polite smile from the receptionist.

Reactions to their relationship within the company are overwhelmingly kind and supportive. Jared checks in with Tracy every day like clockwork, and nary a complaint to HR yet! The team, it seems, is delighted with anything that brings ease to its so oft-beleaguered captain. Even Jared can't help but feel a little prideful at the good that they believe he's been for Richard. Richard, he thinks with a small, soft smile, hasn't walked through a window _once_ since they announced their relationship!

Jared shakes his head. He reminds himself he can hardly claim credit for that, and that self-satisfaction has never been a good color on him. Richard's decreased stress is simply the result of the good PR for FirstSight.

"So…? How's it going?" Dinesh asks, after the stand-up meeting. "I mean," he gestures between the two of them, his eyebrows waggling suggestively, "this whole relationship thing?"

"Great. It's great." Richard reaches over and grabs at Jared's hand, and Jared feels his face crack into a smile. He still can't quite disguise his excitement at the feeling of Richard's hand in his. _For once_ , he reminds himself, _you don't have to hide your feelings. For once it is alright if everybody sees._ When he's recovered his breath enough to speak, Jared adds, "Richard is an exemplary partner."

" _And_ , I'll have you know," Richard wags a finger from his free hand, "we just got in the new user survey data, and along with FirstSight installations, both initial and secondary messages are up since we went public with our little re-la-tion-ship. And match satisfaction is up 3.2%!"

Richard looks terrifically pleased with himself. Jared beams down at him proudly.

"But isn't 3.2% - "

"Within the margin of error? Barely. Look," Jared rushes to put the data in a positive light, to ensure the bubble Richard's floating on doesn't burst and send his captain tumbling back to the ground before him. "The numbers may be modest for now but how encouraging! People really will follow Richard Hendricks anywhere, even to a largely unpopular dating application whose founder made him _persona non grata_ all over the valley. I always knew Richard was an influencer at heart."

Richard looks up at Jared. There's that delightful flush again on his cheeks. "I guess, ah. Guess they're just as happy with their matches as we were."

He looks so nearly truly happy. _Gosh but he is a good actor_ , Jared thinks.

Richard holds Jared's hand all the way back to his office. There's a skip in his step, and their arms sway between them. When they're safely inside, a beat passes before he drops it.

\--

"Do you think," Richard asks, when they're alone, "there's something else we could be doing? I mean, Dinesh is right. 3.2% is dogshit."

Jared frowns. He hates to see Richard doubting himself, and an unpleasant part of him hates the thought that Richard might abandon their plan now. "Well, it's not quite the PR coup we hoped for, but I do believe these numbers are encouraging. And certainly we could be more public with our relationship."

In the past, when Jared let himself imagine a relationship with Richard, those late nights alone in the garage or in his condo, he always imagined himself expanding Richard's world. He'd picture them traveling together, on outings to parks and history museums, introducing Richard to international cuisine, bringing Richard along on his volunteer work…

"You could come with me tomorrow," Jared says. "On the field trip."

"Tomorrow?" Richard's eyes betray no recognition. "On the - what?"

"The class trip I'm chaperoning? To the California Science Center? The classroom where I volunteer? Oh dear." Jared wrings his hands apologetically. "Did I not submit a time-off request?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry." Richard waves dismissively. "Forgot."

"You could come along." Jared clasps his hands together, the excitement fizzing inside him, this effervescent joy, threatening to bubble up and spill over. "Oh how much fun would that be! And the kids would be delighted to meet a prominent figure from the tech industry."

"Heh. I mean - isn't that why they have you?"

Jared laughs in disbelief. "I'm no Richard Hendricks!"

Richard gazes down at his desk, drawing abstract shapes on its surface with his fingertip. His office could use a good dusting, Jared thinks.

"It'll look good," Jared says, a little desperate. Now the dream has lodged inside his heart and he can hardly bear to part with it. "For the blog. And not just for FirstSight. Think of the goodwill this could bring Pied Piper."

Richard's mouth twists. "A two-birds-one-stone sort of thing."

"Well birds are far more likely to be killed by collisions with glass windows. But, I suppose, yes."

\--

When he was a child, looking up at the stars through the hole in the ceiling of the orphanage, Jared hardly dreamt that someday he would make it here: sitting beside Richard Hendricks in the California Science Center's Morrison Planetarium. A new name, his own home, a career, beautiful friendships, a lifetime away from the person he was then. The stars spin above them. The Milky Way galaxy reaches out its splendored arms. Jared turns to watch Richard's wonderful, mobile expression, rapt with awe—and occasional annoyance at an oversimplified factoid—during _Passport to the Universe_ , narrated by Julia Roberts' _Charlie Wilson's War_ co-star, Tom Hanks.

Jared hardly watches the rest of the presentation. There's too much to see in Richard's face. "Isn't this lovely," he leans over and whispers. "I never went on any field trips as a child. My guardians would never sign the permission slips."

"Who were you, Harry Potter?" Richard says.

After, Richard stands with Mikayla, Grace, and Ashton in front of a display on the solar system. Jared watches proudly, trailing just behind. As he suspected, the kids are thrilled to meet Richard, who until now they've only heard about in anecdotes and seen in pictures. _Nothing compared to Hendricks in three dimensions!_ , Jared thinks.

"My mom," Mikayla says, tossing her hair, "says Mercury's in retrograde this month and that's why her HooliPad stopped working."

"Mercury is retrograde," Richard astutely corrects.

"Huh?"

"Mercury _is_ retrograde. Not mercury's _in_ retrograde. And anyway your mom's got it all wrong. Mercury only appears to be moving backward because its solar orbit is shorter than Earth's."

Mikayla snorts. "Okay nerd." She turns around to Jared, and winks.

"And her HooliPad doesn't work because it's a piece of shit designed by Gavin Belson."

"Richard!" Jared gasps. He throws his hand across his chest.

The kids laugh.

"Sorry. Crap."

The snickering grows louder.

Mikayla, Richard confides to Jared in a rare moment of alone time, while the kids take a much-needed bathroom break, is the kind of girl who would've beat him up in middle school. How is Jared so confident around these kids?

Jared hardly knows what to tell him. It is impossibly heartbreaking that Richard would ever doubt himself or lack confidence. Unfathomable, to Jared, that every person he sees doesn't fall hopelessly in love with him. He thinks of a younger Richard, how he wishes he could've known him then, what he would've liked to be able to say to him. "Oh Richard," he says, "just be yourself. No one can ask for more than that from you. Alright?"

Something does finally win the kids over; perhaps it's Richard's innate charm, or just his tendency towards juvenile vulgarity. On the bus ride home, the children nearly come to blows over who gets to sit closest to him ( _maybe they'll finally start that Paul Revere Middle School chapter of the Richard Hendricks Fan Club!_ , Jared thinks), until Grace and Mikalya force their way into the seats in front of them. They prop themselves up on their knees, leaning dangerously over the seat-backs to see Richard and Jared face-to-face.

"So… you're finally Jared's boyfriend."

"Girls," Jared cautions, "please sit down."

"When Jared brought in all those pictures, we could tell he liked you!"

"He said you were, quote unquote, 'as smart as Ada Lovelace but with prettier eyes.'"

"You are _not_ as smart as Ada Lovelace. We learned about her in computer science."

"Sorry," Richard says, his eyes practically bugging out of his head, "what?"

"But that's okay. Still glad you're with Jared."

"Finally got your act together."

"Uh huh."

"About time!"

Mikayla and Grace begin to chant, pounding their fists on the moquette bus seats, and soon nearly half the kids have joined in. "Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

"Okay, settle down," Jared says, trying not to blush. Then, into Richard's ear: "don't listen to them. Richard, we don't have to do anything."

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

The teacher is yelling too, but it's far too late to rein in the spiraling chaos. It's like life itself has run off its rails and spun out into a dizzy surreality. Like anything could happen, and then it does. Richard shrugs. "Give the people what they want," he says, and he leans in close and drops a brief, sweet, gentle, chapped-lip kiss on Jared's lips. When he pulls back, Richard's eyes stay closed. Jared himself feels almost woozy. Breathless. Even hours later, he's still reeling.

 _Richard kissed you first. Richard kissed you first. Even if it meant nothing. Richard kissed you first_.

Jared shakes his head. 

_Pull yourself together, Donald. Pull yourself together. You have a blog post to write._

> Giving Back
> 
> By Jared Dunn
> 
> Hello, readers! Today I'd like to highlight some of Pied Piper's work in the community, specifically our benevolent founder's dedication to energizing and inspiring underprivileged Bay Area youth.
> 
> This week, Richard and I had the opportunity to accompany a local middle school class on its field trip to the California Science Center. (Not to toot my own horn, but I do believe this was the result of my influence. I was delighted to facilitate this opportunity, and give the kids a far more inspirational figure than myself to look up to!) Watching Richard connect with these young people, I couldn't help but picture us with our own rambunctious little brood: my spirited nature, Richard's stately profile, consummate intelligence, and soft, cherubic curls. Remember, folks, your own genetic better half is out there somewhere. Bowerbirds build elaborate, flashy nests and perform complicated song and dance routines to find theirs; all we lucky humans need is FirstSight!
> 
> It is an immense, near-unfathomable privilege: getting to be with Richard as a romantic partner and to work with him as a colleague. You can rest assured, dear readers, it is a privilege I do not take lightly. As COO, I've made it my personal mission to ensure Pied Piper's social contributions outpace that of any company in the valley (consider that a challenge, Gavin Belson). Next stop: the Annual "Debugging Diabetes" Gala. I'll be steaming Richard's tuxedo with mint for the occasion and can't wait to see how sexy he looks!


	4. Chapter 4

"Good afternoon. Emily Chang for Bloomberg News. Coming up: does Facebook care about hate speech? But first I'm here with Richard Hendricks, founder and CEO of Pied Piper, and Chief Operating Officer Jared Dunn."

Richard tips his head toward their host. His feet swing under the desk table. "Hi."

"So, Jared." Emily Chang turns to him, and Jared self-consciously reaches up to touch his throat. "I understand you have some big news to share?"

"Why yes! Now, it's not exactly breaking news—" Jared shrugs apologetically. He still doesn't quite understand why Richard wanted him to do this part. He hates to distract from his captain's time on camera, to occupy such an undue percentage of the spotlight. Jared wonders if his nose looks big, his skin sallow, if viewers at home will question what someone like Richard is doing with him. He takes a quick breath, grateful he even gets to say these next words, and goes on: "I revealed the scoop weeks ago to our loyal Pied Piper website readership. But, I am excited to announce today, for the first time in television history, that Richard Hendricks and I are officially dating!"

"Oh!" Emily laughs. "And I thought you were here to talk about a milestone in Pied Piper installs! Tell me, when did this begin?"

Emily Chang and the camera each turn to Richard, who squirms uncomfortably in his seat. "Uh, it's uh," Richard stammers, "new-ish? Kind of. I mean, it started at Hooli, I guess. Jared, he, uh, he violated his Hooli employment agreement to come work for me actually." Richard smiles down at his hands, looking a little smug and pleased with himself. "Gavin Belson sued me over him. I won."

"And I would follow him again," Jared chimes in. It's such a pure, shining joy still: to say it out loud, to declare his feelings in public. For a moment, he forgets to be concerned over anything else. "Anywhere."

"You know, ah." Richard leans over, his shoulder brushing against Jared's. "If you want to talk about Pied Piper installs. It's, well, you know, this whole thing is - it's all thanks to FirstSight, really. A dating app - gay dating app, mind you - powered by my algorithm. They're one of our - heh, I coined this term - OctoPipers." Richard turns to Jared for validation in the form of a genial smile. He gestures empathetically as he says, "I would never, and I mean _never_ , in a million years, have considered Jared as a partner if the app hadn't matched us up."

A low-grade snicker bounces around between the camera crew as Emily Chang takes a moment to recover. Jared doesn't hear what she says next. Whatever color there is in his face drains from it. Cold and clammy now, shivering in his sweater vest, even under the terrifically hot studio lights. Some part of him wants to strip off his lav mic and flee from the set. The rest of him is shackled to his seat, to the performance of his heart not cracking, not even the tiniest fracture.

"Jared?" Richard nudges him with his knee. "Good, right?"

"Right, I... I'm sorry..." Jared blinks into the spotlights, coming out of a thick, internal haze. That frozen place he sometimes goes. "What was the question?"

"I asked," Emily Chang says, "how you felt about being paired up with Mr. Hendricks?"

"Oh. Um. I'm happy. Of course," Jared says. A moment too late and a smidge unconvincingly, Jared paints a benign smile on his face.

\--

"You, ah," Richard starts, nervously, on the car ride home from the studio. He reaches over to the console and turns the volume down on _All Things Considered_. "You kinda made me look like a douche back there."

"Pardon?"

"I had that great line!" Richard moans in exasperation. His fingers dig like claws into his hair. "About how I never would've considered a relationship without FirstSight? I thought you were gonna jump in and back me up but then you weren't even _listening_."

"Oh." What can he say, Jared wonders, that won't involve admitting to what actually upset him? The way it aches to be reminded that this is all pretend. Jared's never been an adept liar. So he says something that is, technically, not untruth. "You know I'm self-conscious on camera. I couldn't help fretting over how I looked. That I might be, well. That people wouldn't understand why you'd be with me."

Richard scoffs. "Pfft. Are you kidding? I'm, like. A sweaty, anemic code-goblin who needs a _pound_ of foundation to even _begin_ to resemble a human being."

"I thought you liked the make-up."

"That's not the - I just think it looks - but, like - I just don't see what you have to be worried about. You always look nice and put-together. Your skin is like - it's like fucking _porcelain_. You're a good-looking guy. Seriously, Jared. I'd kill to look half as good as you do on camera. If anything people would be wondering why the fuck you'd be with me."

Richard turns away, looks out the window. The low ranch homes and mis-matched trees of Palo Alto, where palm trees stick their necks out behind willows and Chinese elms.

"I'm sorry, Richard. It was a good line."

"It's fine. I'm not mad or whatever." Richard suggests they stop for dinner—that vegan Ethiopian place Jared won't stop gently nudging him to check out? call it a celebration of announcing their relationship?—but Jared says he'd rather make it an early night. They have that interview with TechCrunch in the morning.

\--

The rest of the car ride is quiet. Dinner at the condo, more so. Jared says he has some knitting to do after, while Richard retreats to the bedroom to work on one of his side coding projects.

"Are you alright," Richard says, when he emerges later, stepping out in a t-shirt and boxers for a refill on his decaffeinated green tea, and finding Jared crying on the couch.

"Yes." Jared sniffles. He takes out his soft blue handkerchief, and swipes at his very wet face. "It's - oh, Richard," he gestures despairingly toward the television, "it's just - Marilla made Anne the loveliest birthday cake, and Matthew gave her a charm bracelet! And now Anne is going to search for her birth family, and Gilbert is going to travel with her and help. I mean, she hasn't asked yet but I'm sure that he will."

"Oh, is this," Richard asks, suddenly interested, as he sits down on the sofa with Jared, " _Anne With An E_?"

It's silly, Jared tells him, how he cries during every episode. But Richard says he remembers his mom watching the '70s British miniseries, that he likes period dramas, has been wondering how accurate it is. And then it just makes sense for them to pull out the sofa bed and lie down on it together; the angle is much more practical for watching the TV. And then it just makes sense for Richard to turn onto his side, for Jared to curl up behind and watch over Richard's shoulder.

_This simply can not be_ , Jared tells himself, as he leans in close enough to smell the shampoo on Richard's hair, to feel the heat of his neck, for Jared's leg in its soft fleece pajama pants to brush against Richard's bare skin. _This can't be what you wish it is._ Richard can't be lying here because secretly he wants to sleep in this bed with Jared. Just like he can't be fluffing that extra, unnecessary pillow every night because secretly he hopes he'll get a chance to use it. _No, Donald. Come back to earth already. This is simply far too much for you to ask._

"Well." Richard stretches his arms over his head. His t-shirt slides up as he yawns exceptionally dramatically. "Think I'm gonna head to bed, man."

"Right." Jared chuckles. "A television star must get his beauty rest!"

"Yeah. Heh. See you tomorrow."

_See? See? It doesn't mean anything, Donald. Now you'll both go to sleep, you'll wake up in the morning, you'll make Richard breakfast, and everything will be exactly the same. You'll be Richard's COO. And when people are around, you'll pretend you're Richard's boyfriend._ Richard shuts the door to the bedroom. Jared pulls his mask over his face.

\--

Jared reads over his latest blog entry. It's a bit scant, and he finds a handsome photo of Richard to include as an accompaniment. 

> Meet the Press
> 
> By Jared Dunn
> 
> If you follow the major news outlets (VentureBeat, TechCrunch, Vassar's Alumnae/i Quarterly, the Bay Area Mycological Society newsletter), by now you've surely noticed that Richard and I are making plenty of headlines! Our appearance this week on Bloomberg Technology led to a series of pieces focused on our romantic relationship, and now we can hardly open up a tech blog without reading some news about ourselves. My Hooli search alerts for "Richard Hendricks" are positively blowing up.
> 
> I must admit all this attention feels a bit unusual. It was never my intention to take Richard's place, or even to sit beside him, in the spotlight. My greatest aspiration was merely to be a footnote in the story of Pied Piper, the greatest compression company ever built by God or man. While I'm immeasurably proud to be with Richard Hendricks, every day I thank my lucky stars (and the FirstSight application, powered by Pied Piper!) that someone like him is willing to be seen in public with poor, homely, orphaned Donald Dunn. Readers, I swear I won't let it go to my head. Cross my heart and hope to die! Until next time.

The post is just about ready to go to press, he thinks. Should he include that flattering comment Richard made about him in his television make-up? _No_. Jared shakes his head. _I'll keep that for myself_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared crying over every episode of Anne With An E is the most autobiographical thing I've ever written. Say hi in the comments or over on tumblr if you're into that sort of thing


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hi :) I'm @joycecarolnotes on tumblr

Richard's voice is hushed and muffled but Jared, sitting furtively at his craft table, can still make out some of the words he says, on his phone in the bedroom:

_I don't know, mom._

_I wasn't trying to_ hide _anything._

_Okay, you miss me. I get it._

_I don't know. He - I - we're just busy._

_Yeah yeah fine - I mean, yeah, okay, yeah I'll try._

"You alright?" Jared asks when Richard emerges. He looks wrung-out and exhausted, dragging a hand over his face.

"Uh, yeah. It's just - mom stuff, you know?"

The truth is, Jared doesn't know. He doesn't know what a phone call with his mother would be like, the subjects they might talk about. He doesn't know how it would feel to have someone around who'd known him his entire life. How strange and magical it must be, to be known like that! 

Jared doesn't know what to say, so he puts on his most sympathetic, accommodating smile and hopes it doesn't look too obviously forced. For a moment, it almost seems like it's working. Maybe all this subterfuge is turning Jared into a better liar. Then Richard snaps his fingers and says,

"Shit. I'm sorry. I guess you - I guess you don't actually know, huh."

Jared shakes his head. He implores, "tell me."

So some uncle of his reads CNET, Richard says. He came across a story about them, about the unexpected ascent of FirstSight, and passed it along to Richard's parents. They'd never even heard Jared's name before, or of Richard ever dating anyone, and suddenly their son was doing TV interviews with his serious _boyfriend_? No, they weren't upset, just glad that he's happy, but now they're putting on all this pressure. Like suddenly they need to be part of Richard's life.

"She always accuses me of hiding shit from them but, I mean, we were literally on _television_. Right? Not hiding, opposite."

"Hmm." Jared nods.

"They want to know everything now." Richard pulls a soft, green sweater over his head. "I guess I could've told her it was, y'know, a publicity thing but. I don't know. She seemed so happy," Richard says, then shyly: "they want to meet you. I told them maybe we could Skype with them on Saturday?"

"Oh gosh." Jared's heart feels full to bursting and he clutches at his chest, as if he needs to hold it in. "Meeting your family? Oh Richard, what an honor that would be!"

"So, you'll do it?"

"Of course."

"Cool." Richard shrugs. "How does Veggie Garden sound for dinner?"

\--

"Well if it isn't my favorite customers!"

Veggie Garden has become their go-to spot for dinner dates, both because they can't get enough of the vegan orange chicken and because Richard seems more comfortable here than anywhere else outside the condominium. Their server walks them to their usual table in the corner, takes their usual order of Tsingtao beer (for Richard), barley tea (for Jared), and plates of orange chicken and basil eggplant to share. It's so simple, so easy. Jared cherishes the routine.

He knows he's not supposed to get so carried away. That his and Richard's is just for show, not a real relationship. Still, Jared can't help but think in some ways, this is the healthiest, most normal relationship he's had. Here they are, on a midweek date, sharing the pleasure of delicious food, laughing at the music piped in (Eric Carmen's "Hungry Eyes"), talking about how their days went. No different than any other couple in the restaurant. 

"Did you get enough? I feel like I took too much, here." Infinitely fair-minded Richard lifts a piece of fried soy chicken on his fork to Jared’s mouth. "Saucy," Richard says, and he laughs at his own joke.

 _He didn't even check first_ , Jared thinks, _to see if anyone was looking. As if this could be just for us_.

Jared thinks of Ethan, the older boy in his first group home. Ethan, with the sinewy arms and the dark, pretty eyes, who listened to Donald read aloud from _Leaves of Grass_ and only laughed at him a couple times. Ethan let him put his hand inside his shorts once, for all of six or so wonderful, dreamlike minutes. Ethan didn't seem to like Donald when anyone else was around. Ethan made Donald promise not to tell anyone and hurt him when he did. How he learned it was best not to show when he loved something. All the love he had to hide. 

At least now, Jared thinks, as he reaches across the table and rests his larger hand on top of Richard's, even if it’s all for show, at least now he gets to show it.

\--

Before the Skype call, Jared paces the condo, overcome with a profound case of nerves. Usually he trusts himself to perform adequately in unfamiliar social situations, but meeting Richard's parents feels unusually high-stakes. He tries not to burden Richard with requests for reassurance, but can't help asking one last time if his hair looks alright, if he's used enough pomade, if perhaps his fleece vest is too casual for the occasion?

"Pfft. They're used to me," Richard says, as he shifts the Hummel figurines over and props his laptop up on the table. "You'll be fine. I mean, you look nice."

Jared holds his breath as the video connects, and then—there they are. Richard's parents. A wide, toothy smile, high cheekbones and ocean-blue eyes like Richard's.

It doesn't take much to charm Ellen and Gregory Hendricks. If the fact that Jared loves their son isn't enough, there's also the passion for musical theatre that bonds him with Richard's father, the interest in interior design he shares with Richard's mom. By the end of the call, Ellen is giving Jared a guided tour of their house in Tulsa, promising to send the Martha Stewart pattern she used to sew those elegant, pleated formal shades.

"Before we go, Jared," Gregory says, "favorite musical? Three-two-one go."

"Do I have to choose? Oh gosh. _My Fair Lady_ , I suppose _._ But at the moment, I can't help but think of _Oklahoma!_."

"Oh no," Richard groans, and for a moment Jared thinks he might be sick and almost rushes to grab a bucket before Richard waves him off. Instead, Richard looks on in mock-horror as his father puts on an exaggerated Southern accent and sings "flowers on the prairie where the June bugs zoom, plenty of air and plenty of room," and as Jared jumps in with perfect harmony, "plenty of room to swing a rope, plenty of heart and plenty of hope!" Jared finishes with an embellished, unrestrained "yeehaw!"

Before they hang up, Ellen and Gregory make them promise to check in again soon. " _Make_ him, Jared," Ellen says, "you make sure Richard calls us."

"Heh," Richard says after, before he retreats to the bedroom and his coding for the night, "you would've made a better Hendricks than I did."

> The Hendricks Family
> 
> By Jared Dunn
> 
> Hello, readers. I come to you today with some exciting news. This afternoon, I had the honor of meeting Richard's parents and you know it's not like me to boast but I believe I made quite a favorable impression! 
> 
> I've long begged Richard to let me construct his family tree on Ancestry.com (genealogical research is a fascinating hobby, but what I know of my own lineage amounts to little more than a tiny dwarf willow with root rot!). I was sure we'd uncover some particularly distinguished heritage, perhaps even that Richard was the heir to an obscure principality à la Mia Thermopolis in _The Princess Diaries_. After meeting his lovely parents, and being welcomed into the Hendricks clan by them with open arms, I am all the more certain Richard comes from noble stock!
> 
> It turns out Richard's parents and I share love for more than just their son. We bonded over our enjoyment of _Martha Stewart Living_ and classic Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals, and I even got to take a virtual tour of their delightful home in Tulsa. 
> 
> When the FirstSight application matched Richard and I, I didn't dare to dream that it could bring me so much splendor. That, for the first time in his tumultuous life, this former foundling, the man once known as Child #61728, would get to feel part of a

Jared stops there. The next word he means to type lodges in his throat. He feels awfully constricted. It's too wonderful, too fleeting, too delicate to bear.

> family. Don't pinch me, dear readers! My chronic anemia causes easy bruising, and if this is all a dream, I never want to wake up from it.

He smiles wistfully and clicks _publish_.

\--

It always feels a bit unnatural, whenever things are going well. Jared feels tossed off-kilter, accustomed as he is to the emotional ambient sound of at least some level of disorder and chaos. And so Jared doesn't know how to react when Laurie Bream spends most of their next meeting complimenting his and Richard's work.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I am not displeased."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims. "That's high praise." And from Laurie, it is. "Thank you."

"Yes." Laurie squints over her glasses. "It seems this… relationship of yours is actually driving users to FirstSight. Now would be a prudent time to launch Pied Piper's paid advertising program."

"Advertising program?" Richard splutters. "No, Laurie, we talked about this! No ads!"

"You did say that." Laurie begins to gather up her things. "Several times."

Richard stands. He moves to block the exit to the conference room, staring at Laurie expectantly, his lips tight and eyes wide. "Well?"

"Oh, I see. And you thought your saying so meant we would not sell advertising? No."

"Listen to me. God." Richard slams his hand down on the table. Jared startles in his seat. He can't help but get a little excited, seeing Richard fight for what he believes in like this. _Gosh_ , Jared thinks, with a hot ache in his chest, _righteous anger is an intoxicating color on him_. "Pied Piper is not going to sell ads. We're not going to collect user data and we're not going to shit all over fucking... basic human rights just because you think it's prudent. No. We will not, I will not - not ever - never. Fuck, I've staked my company's entire reputation on the promise that we wouldn't."

"Fine," Laurie concedes with a sigh, "for now." 

Before she leaves, there are few more demands to attend to, and Laurie makes it clear that she will absolutely not budge on any of them. More blog posts, more appearances, a presentation at the Global Dating Insights conference in Lake Tahoe next month. They'll need to be more public with their relationship, make sure to promote FirstSight and emphasize its role as the centerpiece of Pied Piper's revolutionary network. The feather in their proverbial cap.

Jared reminds himself to be grateful for the time they have had. For the nights watching _Anne With An E_ or _Planet Earth_ on the sofa bed, the shared meals at Veggie Garden—all the small, private moments he never told his blog readers about. _Don't you dare be greedy, Donald. Don't you go wanting too much_. If Laurie Bream gets all she asks for (and, generally speaking, Laurie Bream does), it seems less and less of their time will be their own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind encouragement to keep going with this fic! Special thanks to a_bit_not_good_yeah for reading and for many insightful comments, and to Google Translate for the hopefully-not-terrible German <3

"I don’t know about you but long car rides make me feel gross. I’m just gonna, uh…" Richard points over his shoulder toward the bathroom.

"Oh yes." Jared nods. It had been a long drive—five hours in traffic to Lake Tahoe—and each of them already exhausted from all the public appearances Laurie's PR team had been putting them through. While Jared thrilled at the prospect of so much uninterrupted alone time—he and Richard on the open road!—Richard spent the majority of it retching and clutching a paper bag. "You did vomit quite a bit when we got onto the freeway."

"Yea-ar. I’m gonna hit the shower. Brush my teeth."

"Of course! And please let me know if you prefer toiletries other than the hotel-provided."

"Heh. I got used to Erlich’s. I’ll be fine."

It’s a decently-sized king room, at least, that Jared will be sharing with Richard. Jared checks underneath the bed and inside the small closet. He finds a few soft robes, an ironing board and iron (that’ll come in handy tomorrow, he thinks), but there doesn’t seem to be a cot tucked away anywhere. _Darn_. Jared certainly won’t risk calling down to the lobby for a rollaway bed; how would that look, when he and Richard are supposed to be in a blossoming, happy relationship? When they’re here, at the Global Dating Insights conference, to share their story of FirstSight success?

He could propose sleeping on the floor again, but Richard hadn’t liked that option the first time he suggested it ("don’t be ridiculous, Jared. If somebody has to sleep on the floor, I will"). This kindness, this patience, the attention to his needs Richard seems to be making an effort to show more often lately—it's all a bit unsettling. Jared hears the shower switch on and prays the water pressure is adequate. He closes his eyes and pictures Richard undressing, stepping into the shower stall, relaxing and unspooling, hot steam easing the ever-present tension from his back. That aching, ravenous hunger alights in his chest again.

 _Tsk, tsk_ , Jared scolds himself. _It won’t do to go invading Richard’s privacy, even if only in your imagination._ He sets to work on a list of alternative sleeping arrangements, and when Richard emerges from the bathroom, clad in boxers and t-shirt, toweling at his damp, curly hair, Jared is ready to pounce. He’ll sleep in the closet, he says. He’ll sleep in his car. He’ll stay up all night if he has to.

"Come on," Richard insists. "This is insanity. Look at this bed. There’s plenty of room. I promise you won’t get sweat on." 

What Richard doesn’t know—what Richard can't possibly know, what Jared can’t possibly tell him—is how heavenly it sounds, to wake up bathed in his captain’s sweat. How glorious, how divine, how transcendent! But because he can’t say any of that, Jared simply nods, and suggests they order room service.

"Holy shit this is overpriced," Richard says. "Share the squash risotto?"

\--

"Bitte nicht, bitte nicht." 

Richard feels the sound before he hears it, roused from a restless slumber by the softest of vibrations, against the back of his sweaty neck. He’s been having one of his archetypal anxiety dreams (naked but for a Pied Piper foam finger on his dick again, this time at tomorrow’s presentation) and he takes a deep breath, grateful to be awake and in his—wait a second, where actually is he?

Richard pushes himself up on one elbow, and finds it sinking into a mattress that is absolutely too nice to be his.

"Bitte nicht, mein Herr."

Oh. Right. They’re presenting at GDI in Lake Tahoe. Richard is here at the conference hotel, and behind him, tucked up close against his back, is a sleeping, German-mumbling Jared.

"Bitte zwinge mich nicht, wieder im Käfig zu schlafen." 

Jared shudders. He makes a miserable sniffling sound, and Richard realizes he is crying.

 _Fuck_ , Richard thinks. What had he gotten himself into? This whole thing—the fake relationship—but also last night, practically forcing Jared to share the bed, when he knew this sort of thing might happen? It had felt like the right thing to do. After all it wasn’t Jared’s fault that they had to pretend to be boyfriends, or that they’d been stuck in a room next to the ice machine without a couch or a cot to sleep on. What was Richard supposed to do, let Jared sleep on the floor? Like Jared was his, like, _dog_ or something? Richard was trying—he was trying so hard, ever since HooliCon, and since he’d fired Jared, since the terrible cruel shit he’d said—not to do stuff like that anymore.

"Fuck," Richard sighs, aloud this time. The right thing to do, which usually in equal parts obsessed and eluded Richard, is to actually do _something_. Right? Richard turns around.

He had always thought of Jared as a handsome if somewhat unusual-looking guy. Jared was tall. People liked that. He had neat dark hair, eerily clear skin, an orderly closet full of nice sweater vests and pressed Brooks Brothers oxford shirts. He knew how to use an iron. God. Richard had always been impressed that Jared managed to look so put-together, like such a comparative _adult_. But now, seeing the tear tracks on Jared’s face, his helpless skinny pale arms in that phosphorescent, bleached white t-shirt he sleeps in, it occurs to Richard possibly for the first time that Jared is barely older than he is. 

He looks sweet, Richard thinks, before he can stop himself. Sort of vulnerable and innocent, like someone you naturally want to protect. If Richard is totally honest with himself—which, to _be_ honest, he often doesn’t know how to be, and isn’t—he thinks Jared is kind of, maybe… attractive? And a good kisser. It’d been easier than he expected, pretending to be his boyfriend. He's still kind of shocked and flattered that Jared agreed to be his.

"Ich werde tun was immer du willst." Jared whimpers.

Okay, that’s enough. Richards sets his hand on Jared’s shoulder, feels its sharp edge through cotton and skin. "Psst, hey. Hey Jared. You’re dreaming." He shakes him. "Wake up."

Jared wakes with a pained, strangled sound. He blinks up into Richard’s face.

"We’re in the hotel. At the conference. You’re, ah. You were sleep-talking."

Jared cranes his neck to take in his surroundings. His wide, attentive eyes adjust to the cool violet of the so-late-it’s-almost-early light and his voice creaks when he says, "oh dear. I hope I didn’t wake you."

"It’s alright. I was up."

"Goodness." Jared swipes at his eyes, at the tear stains on his face. He turns away, looking sheepish and ashamed, and collects his watch from the bedside table. "The presentation! Richard, you need your rest. I’ll sleep in my car. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I’m sure a hotel parking lot in Lake Tahoe is safer than a truck stop in the Ozarks!"

"Come on. Jared. We’re not gonna - you’re, you’re upset. Were you having a nightmare?"

Jared frowns, then nods.

The right thing to do. Richard looks around the room for it. _Come on_ , he thinks, _you’ve_ kissed _Jared. How weird can it be to give him a hug?_ There’s no one here to see them. Nobody has to know ( _and does that make it weirder or better?_ , he wonders). "C’mere," Richard says. He opens his arms and Jared tucks himself into them. They lean back onto the pillows and slowly, together, slip into a dreamless, silent sleep.

\--

When Jared awakes the next morning, Richard is already up and buzzing about the hotel room, practically radiating nervous energy. Guilt hits Jared like a blow to the stomach when he remembers last night, Richard comforting him after his nightmare, when he sees the paper cup of tea and dish of fresh fruit at his bedside.

"Oh." He frowns. “You already picked up breakfast?"

Richard hums in assent without looking up from his laptop. He shoves a mini-muffin absently into his mouth.

"You should’ve woken me." Jared swings his legs onto the floor. He puts his watch on. Wrings his hands. "I would’ve done it." 

"Could you maybe, uh, pick something for me to wear?" Richard asks, and Jared sighs with relief at the asking. Despite how much he believes in Richard, he still feels profoundly useless when Richard takes care of himself.

The only thing Richard balks at is the pomade Jared recommends he use in his hair. The shirt he picks, the trousers and blazer he presses, Richard accepts unquestioningly. He even asks if Jared would mind doing a little make-up for him.

"As if you need it!"

Richard blushes. "I just - I dunno - I just like the way it looks, I guess. Makes me feel more confident."

Jared collects the small toiletry bag from Richard’s suitcase. He leans in close—so close he can feel the warmth of Richard’s breath on his face, see every fleck of color in his eyes, those two small, wild oceans—and puts to use the cosmetology skills he picked up on the streets of New Orleans. The lightest touch of clear mascara, liquid foundation, a tiny dab of rouge on Richard’s already-rosy cheeks.

"There. Ready?"

Richard nods. He pumps his fist and Jared laughs. "Let’s do this."

No matter how many times they give this presentation, Jared never tires of it. The FirstSight numbers are impressive, of course, and Jared is honored and delighted to think he’s done anything to help propel PiperNet’s extraordinary growth. There’s always a bit of a thrill, too, in hearing himself called Richard’s boyfriend, in declaring his love for Richard in public and knowing that that love will be taken as-is. But it’s more than that, too. This time, something is different. 

Maybe it’s the confidence boost Richard gets from the make-up. When he says _Jared is the partner I never knew I needed_ and _we want all FirstSight users to be as happy as we are_ , it sounds realer, truer, more sincere. And when Richard leans over and kisses Jared’s cheek—the big finale they planned for the end of the presentation—it doesn’t ache like it usually does. It feels almost like it could be just for them. Jared has to remind himself it isn’t.

\--

They fumble with the room key and then into their sleep clothes. There’d been a full day of presentations, and a dinner and reception after that, where Jared had graciously accepted kind words about how perfect he and Richard seemed for each other and drank one too many glasses of that Skinnygirl rosé (which, for Jared, meant exactly one of them). He feels both too warm and too exhausted to put up a protest over sharing the bed again, and finds himself on his side, resting on a decadently plush pillow, he and Richard face-to-face.

"You know," Richard says, "we never talked about, like - _why_ did FirstSight match us? Are we really that compatible, you think?"

"Well, I’m not one to rely on science when it comes to matters of the heart, but you said it yourself: FirstSight is the most advanced compatibility and partner matching software ever created. Its search algorithm was designed by a genius."

"Deedee?" Richard scowls. "You think a guy who believes in intelligent design is a genius?"

"No, silly." Jared shifts closer to Richard in the bed. For a moment, his bare foot touches Richard’s socked one. It’s so intimate he could almost cry. "You."

Richard smiles at that.

"I don’t think it would’ve matched us without good reason. If we didn’t share values, for instance," Jared says. "And I, well, I - "

"What?"

"I like spending time with you."

Richard rolls onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. "I like when it’s just us. I could do without all this conference-gala-investor dinner-press shit."

"It’ll be over soon," Jared says, with what he hopes sounds like a tone of reassurance. "FirstSight installs are bound to plateau. At some point, the return won’t be worth the time we’re putting in to keep up the facade of a relationship. That’s just numbers; Laurie will understand that."

Richard turns away. He doesn’t speak again. Jared waits a long while before deciding he must be asleep and reaching up to switch the light off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the Wayback Machine for doing god's work and preserving the apparently-deleted (?) older entries from the Pied Piper blog. I couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> And thank YOU, whoever you are, for still reading this, and hi!

> [Draft] In the Arms of an Angel
> 
> By Jared Dunn
> 
> Dear readers, I've just had the best weekend of my life since that time I snuck away from the group home to catch the 1998 Lilith Fair (I mean, holy cow, Indigo Girls, Suzanne Vega, _and_ Bonnie Raitt?!) and I am near breathless with happiness!
> 
> Last night, I slept in Richard's arms. Like my own gallant Lancelot, Sir Richard Hendricks the Lionheart had comforted me after one of my night terrors, and we'd fallen back to sleep together, cuddling. Much as we would've liked to spend the day in our decadently luxurious hotel bed, we had to get up and at 'em for our keynote presentation to the Global Dating Insights conference here in Lake Tahoe. My esteemed CEO-slash-boyfriend asked that I help him apply make-up for the big day and, though I assured him he hardly needs it, it was fun putting that dab of rouge on Richard's already-rosy cheeks. And here I thought I might never use those cosmetology skills I picked up on the streets of New Orleans again! 
> 
> Our keynote was a smashing success. I could hardly believe I got to hear Richard say those words: "what Jared and I have is real" and "we want all FirstSight users to be as happy as we are." And when he pulled me down to press his soft lips to my cheek at the end of it, I could've sworn I felt something different in his kiss. Something sacred, like the best kind of secret, something that was just for me. Something that meant maybe this wasn't all a ruse and that Richard actually returned my feelings... but oh dear, oh dear, it seems I'm getting carried away. 
> 
> Time to turn on my white noise app and fluff Richard's pillows for him; it's shaping up to be another wonderful night!
> 
> [Save] [Publish] [Cancel]

"Did you, um," Richard asks the next morning as he fiddles with his suitcase and phone. "Sorry, Laurie's texting. Did you post on the blog yet? She wants to know. About the conference? Do you think we could share the PowerPoint?"

Jared nearly drops the argyle sweater vest he's folding. He flashes back to the draft he left saved last night, somewhere between that rosé at the reception and drifting to sleep mere inches from Richard, while he was still drunk on the most improbable sort of happiness. He breathes a small sigh of relief that at least he'd had the good sense not to publish it. "I'll post when we get home," he promises, piling their bags on a luggage cart for the elevator. That should do it, Jared thinks: provide ample time to edit the unacceptable parts out, to keep the things he wishes to keep secret for himself.

Check-out is smooth. The car ride is mostly quiet, all sugar pines and dark-eyed juncos and the low volume murmur of the new _Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!_ blending with the near-hypnotic lull of the road. Somewhere around Fairfield, a thought lights up in Richard's head. He turns to Jared, clicks his tongue, and says, "y'know, I've been talking to Gilfoyle, and I think I have an idea how we can get out of this whole Laurie-selling-ads situation."

"Oh?"

"Don't laugh."

"I won't." Jared wanly smiles. _Oh Richard, darling_ , he longs to say, _don't you know by now that I won't?_

"What if we ICO?"

\--

Richard paces in the bathroom, holding his iPhone like it's a bomb that might go off. His anxiety flashing like a beacon, he's all too aware of Jared's presence on the other side of the door, and of the need to keep this conversation private. Just as the call connects, Richard flushes the toilet, pleased with his own cleverness, thinking, _aha! that'll drown out the sound of my voice_.

"Richard? What the fuck? Are you in the bathroom?"

"Monica," Richard whispers furtively, "hi, hello."

"What's up? And why are you whispering?"

Now that he's got her on the phone, Richard isn't entirely sure why he always picks Monica to call when he needs help with something and can't go to his usual source of comfort and advice (i.e. Jared). Monica never makes it easy on him. He can imagine her look of revulsion, can practically _hear_ her rolling her eyes at him through the phone. But if he's being honest—which, to _be_ honest, he's trying a lot harder to be, starting right now—Monica is kind of—unfortunately, given that he's also not entirely sure she doesn't hate him—his best friend. 

"Can we meet," he asks, "outside Safeway? In like twenty minutes? I could really use your advice."

\--

Jared tells himself not to feel guilty. It's perfectly alright, he thinks, to need a little "Me Time." It's alright to feel relieved rather than devastated when Richard says he's going to run some errands tonight and that he does not require any company. Even if Richard seems surprised and disappointed when Jared doesn't attempt to mount a protest.

The events of the past weekend have left him wildly disoriented. Richard Hendricks, he thinks, has always been a bit of a tornado, a gust of wind that blew through and knocked Jared's orderly life off course. It takes a lavender bath bomb, some Tension Tamer tea, and Sarah McLachlan's _Surfacing_ album to get him feeling the pull of gravity again. 

Fresh from the bath, his hair combed, dressed in his soft fleece pajamas, Jared sits down at his desk. He feels his feet on the floor, takes a deep breath, and grounds himself in the present moment, in the real, the way his therapist always encourages him to. He opens up the saved draft of his latest Pied Piper blog post, reads it over, and commits it all to memory: Richard's low, gentle voice, waking him up from his nightmare, their feet brushing under blankets, falling to sleep in Richard's arms. The kiss at the end of their presentation and, with it, the fantasy that all of this could be real. That, somehow, miraculously, Richard could love him back.

 _This way it's just for you_ , thinks Jared. He highlights the offending text and hits delete.

\--

Richard wonders why he chooses to spend his time with people who make him feel like he's the comparative middle school kid they should be chaperoning on a field trip. There's Jared and his pressed shirts and perfect hair, of course, and now Monica who, even on a late Sunday night no-notice run to the grocery store, looks nice enough for a board meeting. _Better than I would look at a board meeting_ , Richard thinks, bitterly.

He fills her in as best he can: the poor survey results, the whole fake relationship thing, getting matched with Jared on FirstSight. Monica just stares at him blankly. "I don't get it."

"Don't get - what?"

"Don't you and Jared live together? And go pretty much everywhere else, together?" Monica takes a long, drawn-out drag on her cigarette. "He paints your nails and drives you to doctor's appointments? If anything, you two have been pretending _not_ to date."

"It's not," Richard protests weakly, his mouth twisted in a scowl. "It - it wasn't like that."

"But now it is?"

Richard looks down at the ground, at his sneakers drawing aimless patterns on it. Absently, he realizes he's made a giant letter _J_. Goddamnit. "Now I don't know what it is."

"And does Jared?"

"I don't know what he thinks. It's how he is. He does stuff like this because it's good for Pied Piper, not because he—like, why would someone like him _like_ me? He started using the company blog to document our relationship and—"

"Wait," Monica cuts him off with what can only be called a cackle. She catches herself with a hand on his forearm when she almost laughs herself off her feet. "Did you say he _started_ using the blog to document your relationship?"

"Shh," Richard hisses. "Can you - quiet, Monica, please." 

"Jesus christ, Richard. Have you never even looked at your own company's website?"

"No. I - I don't know. The website just seemed like. You know. A Jared Thing."

Monica flicks her cigarette. Embers glow red against the blacktop of the supermarket parking lot. "How many times do I have to tell you: you're the CEO, you need to know what's happening at Pied Piper inside and out. Including if your COO is using the corporate blog in a pretty unprofessional and frankly embarrassing—" Monica seems to give up on the sentence. "You know what," she sighs, "go back and read through the blog. _All the way_ through the blog. I think you'll see what I mean."

\--

> Power(Point) of Two
> 
> By Jared Dunn
> 
> Dear readers, I've just had the best weekend of my life since that time I snuck away from the group home to catch the 1998 Lilith Fair (I mean, holy cow, Indigo Girls, Suzanne Vega, _and_ Bonnie Raitt?!) and I am near breathless with happiness!
> 
> Much as Richard and I would've liked to spend the day in our decadently luxurious hotel bed, we had to get up and at 'em for our keynote presentation to the Global Dating Insights conference here in Lake Tahoe. My esteemed CEO-slash-boyfriend asked that I help him apply make-up for the big day and, though I assured him he hardly needs it, it was fun putting that dab of rouge on Richard's already-rosy cheeks. And here I thought I might never use those cosmetology skills I picked up on the streets of New Orleans again!
> 
> Our keynote on FirstSight (powered by Pied Piper) was a smashing success. Please follow the link below to access our PowerPoint presentation, and enjoy the custom transitions designed by yours truly!
> 
> http://www.piedpiper.com/assets/global-dating-insights.ppt

Okay, this is more or less what Richard expected. A few couple-y details, "FirstSight (powered by Pied Piper)", one or two of Jared's typically overzealous overshares. Nothing that makes him cringe any harder than he'd already braced himself for considering, you know. Jared. But he promised Monica he'd read all the way back through the blog, so he keeps clicking and reading, clicking and reading, the whole Uber ride back to Jared's place, and then after, like some kind of fucking red-eyed tweaker, lurking in the stairwell. Entry after entry, page after page. 

His ears burn when Jared informs readers of Richard's osteopenia diagnosis, and again when Jared alludes to his humiliating "sexual escapade" with Liz Melcher. He actually gasps out loud when he reads "Richard has such a remarkable mind, but it is just one among many remarkable organs, like his heart" and—um, _what the fuck,_ this _was on their official fucking company website?!_ —"I actually find parabiosis to be an incredibly intimate demonstration of loyalty, and it's a pity Richard and I have incompatible blood types." He's starting to understand, maybe, what Monica was talking about.

Jared calls him a "true technological visionary" and claims to know Richard better than anyone. And the pictures he takes of him: some of them, Richard thinks, are somehow not actually that bad. What does Jared see when he looks at him?

Somewhere in his chest, between the nostalgia and the embarrassment and the extreme feeling of exposure, like he's naked in one of his stress-dreams again, Richard manages to feel genuine _heartache_ at Jared calling him "a good man." Even with no one else in this grim, pseudo-old-folks'-home condominium building stairwell at nearly midnight, he's ashamed to realize he's tearing up, and swipes at his eyes viciously.

"Richard Hendricks is a good man." Maybe only Jared would think that. 

But also, Richard thinks, it is true: Jared's been here by his side through all of it. It's true that Jared would know best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't make that into a real PowerPoint link :/


End file.
